


Feeling No Pain

by Suzie_Shooter



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-07 01:46:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1114064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzie_Shooter/pseuds/Suzie_Shooter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yassen finds Alex suffering from the after-effects of a drug meant to suppress pain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feeling No Pain

**Author's Note:**

> I think I originally posted this on LJ in response to a writing meme, on the prompt of "Feeling no pain" but I can't remember where or when. Anyway, I just found it on my laptop and realised I'd not posted it here, so now I have.

No pain, they'd said. Those earnest looking technicians in their crisp, clean uniforms. Explaining to him how the drug would affect his system, how it would inhibit the pain receptors, allow him to carry on far beyond his normal endurance. Warning him with insincere smiles intended to convey it was a joke that he should be careful not to accidentally lose a limb and not notice.

Alex hadn't thought it was funny. He'd been reluctant, suspicious. But those same serious, encouraging faces had explained also, how vital this mission was, how the serum would enhance his capabilities, how it had to be done, how it had to be him.

As always, he'd given in. And somewhat to his surprise, it _had_ worked. He hadn't felt the exhaustion dragging him down, the blossoming bruises, the way the glass sliced into his skin, or the barbed wire tore at his knees. Hitting the ground had merely knocked the breath from his body. 

And he'd done it. What had seemed an impossible task, he'd survived, and was still standing at the end when all around him was in flames.

Afterwards, even as they'd congratulated him, he'd seen the sharp, hungry look of interest in their eyes as they studied him. He'd seen that look before, on people watching laboratory animals. They were waiting to see what happened to him. It was only then he wondered who they'd tried this on before. And what had happened to them.

It was that realisation that had made him run, to hide in an anonymous room in a squalid house, and even as he paid off the owner and closed himself in, he began to understand that the darkness of the room was less the fading of the daylight than the fading of his own vision.

No pain, they'd said. And while it had lasted, they'd been right.

No one had thought to mention what he would feel when it started to wear off.

\--

His vision dark and cloudy, Alex gradually became aware of the deep aches across his body, the seemingly inconsequential wounds springing into stinging life. 

The cramps that wracked his body seized him half an hour later, without warning. Curled miserably on the bed, cheeks streaked with tears of pain, he wondered if he was dying. 

Maybe he should have stayed with the doctors. But no, he didn't trust them, he'd been right not to. If anything, this bore him out.

The banging in his head resolved abruptly into a banging at his door, and with a splintering crash it broke open.

Alex rolled over and managed to focus enough to dimly make out the man who'd entered. Watched as he swung the door with its broken lock closed again and wedged a chair under the handle. 

Trapped in here now. Together.

Yassen came to stand by the bed, regarding him silently.

Alex looked up at him, wondering if the end had come and if so hoping it would be quick, because he couldn't take much more of this.

But Yassen was still looking thoughtful, as if he hadn't expected to find Alex in this condition.

"What happened?" he asked, finally.

Alex found a voice from somewhere, broken and cracked and dry. 

"They gave me something. A drug. Said it meant I wouldn't feel any pain." He managed a mirthless laugh. "Guess they lied."

Yassen moved out of Alex's line of sight and for a moment he thought he'd gone. A few moments later however, Yassen was back holding a glass. 

"Drink." Yassen crouched by the bed and offered it up.

Alex tried to knock it away weakly, unable to completely abandon his sense of self preservation, but Yassen caught his hand.

"It's just water. I promise."

He helped Alex sit up slightly, and held the glass as he gulped it down greedily. 

"It'll help flush it through your system faster," Yassen muttered, mostly to himself. Alex collapsed back against the stained pillows, flushed with sweat and shivering.

"What are you doing here?" Alex croaked. Pointless asking how he’d found him.

"I was sent to kill the person responsible for taking down the cartel," Yassen replied, calmly. Alex nodded, accepting.

"That would be me." 

Yassen stood up, turned away. "You're not responsible for this. You're just their weapon. You don't destroy a gun for killing someone." He sounded disgusted, and Alex experienced a twinge of anguish that was nothing to do with his injuries.

Yassen walked towards the door, and Alex realised this time he was really leaving. Hardly knowing what he was saying, just knowing he needed the Russian to stay, that as long as he had someone to talk to he could cling to the belief he wasn't going mad, he called after him.

"If I'd been anyone else, you'd have killed them."

Yassen stopped. "Yes," he admitted.

"So why not me?"

"Are you so eager to die?" Yassen came back to the bed, despite himself.

"Sometimes I think it would be preferable." Alex coughed painfully and Yassen sighed, fetched him more water, helped him drink it.

"How much did they give you?" he asked, coldly.

Alex shrugged. "Enough to do the job."

"I'm familiar with the drug you're talking about. I've seen the effects of it. More than one shot would be dangerous to a man with twice your bulk."

Alex hesitated. "They gave me three," he whispered.

"Then they've poisoned you," Yassen said flatly and gave in, sitting down heavily on the edge of the bed. "Why do you do it Alex? Why do you let them use you like this? They don't care about you."

"If you think you can turn me against them - "

Yassen gave a wordless noise of exasperation. "I don't give a damn what side you work for Alex. I just fail to understand why you work for them at all."

Alex was silent for a long moment, until Yassen thought he wasn't going to answer. Then - 

"I have to believe it's worthwhile. Too many people have died. If I don’t believe what they ask me to do is right - then it's all been for nothing."

"And you? How does throwing your life away help any of them?" 

"Why do you even care?"

Yassen didn't answer, just looked away. Alex was seized by a fresh spasm of pain and curled in on himself, biting his lip in an attempt not to whimper.

After a moment, Yassen reached out and laid a silently comforting hand on Alex's shoulderblade. 

"Am I dying?" Alex asked shakily when he could speak again. "Because if I am you might as well put me out of this misery."

Lifting Alex's wrist, Yassen took his pulse then pulled him into a sitting position and examined his eyes. 

"I think you'll live," he said consideringly. "I think if it was going to kill you it would have already, maybe as soon as the dose hit your heart. Probably hasn’t done your liver much good but you should be good for a few years yet." 

Somehow his hand hadn’t moved from Alex's face, was now cradling his cheek, and Yassen wasn’t entirely sure how that had happened.

Alex mustered a weak smile. "If I make it that long, huh?"

"Try," Yassen told him, smiling back faintly.

Alex felt his head nodding as the exhaustion finally beat him, his skull was like a lead weight. He would have just toppled sideways, but Yassen laid him down carefully, pulled the covers round him.

Sat for a long while, just watching him breathe.


End file.
